Moving day

We got the keys today on schedule so Marek and I took what little belongings we have to the new flat. For me, it’s just my big backpack, full of mostly dirty clothes and a sleeping bag. For Marek, it’s just the clothes on his back and a plastic Tesco bag containing his spatsak and some toiletries.

The flat has a washer and the first thing I did, other than putting the Staropramen beer into the frig, was to do a load of laundry. Most of it was socks. The next thing we did was wrestle.

However, we’re still sleeping at BBBreederboy was Steve King, a British sexpat who moved to Prague after being inspired by my blog. For some time, he was my number-one advocate,... and Eda’s because neither one of us could figure out how to light the strange pseudo-radiators in the new flat.

As I was writing this post, Marek called me over to the sofa and asked me if I wanted a cigarette. I did and he lit it for me. Then I noticed the printed photo of him that BBBreederboy was Steve King, a British sexpat who moved to Prague after being inspired by my blog. For some time, he was my number-one advocate,... made last night. Beside it was a pen. I picked up the print, turned it over and saw that on the back he had written his name, comma, and then “Rick’s boyfriend” in messy Slovak.

Later, when I was spending too much time in front of the computer, he changed it to, “Rick, pay attention to your boyfriend,” and handed it back to me.
“Co skin?” he grinned, seeing my experession. “Happy skin?” in English. “Eh? Eh, skin?”

He knew the answer so I just rubbed his head and punched him lightly on the shoulder.
Last night at PinocchioPinocchio Prague was my favorite of the mainstream rent-boy clubs in Prague, which really isn't saying much since I could only rarely afford the prices... a friend had also asked me if I was happy. A flat, a nice boy, and wi-fi!

I guess I am.